


Crossroad Blues

by Voicefullofmoney



Series: Zukka Supernatural AU [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Crossroads Deals & Demons, Demon Summoning, Enemies to Lovers, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:34:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27698378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voicefullofmoney/pseuds/Voicefullofmoney
Summary: “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Hadoka’s infamous wayward son. To what do I owe the pleasure, Sokka?”“Didn’t realize I was famous.”“It’s not every day a hunter like Hadoka sells his soul. I may do my business topside, but the screams from Hell can echo pretty far.”A short re-imagining of the S2:E3 crossroads demon deal with Sokka and Katara in place of Sam and Dean. Also featuring your favorite angry exiled prince, Zuko, as the demon summoned by Sokka to make his deal.Shoutout toang3lba3for inspiring me to pursue a Zukka Supernatural AU.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Zukka Supernatural AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2114817
Comments: 14
Kudos: 112





	Crossroad Blues

Sokka grimaced down at the used doughnut box sitting in the shallow hole he had just dug. He could see its contents through the cellophane cutout: a handful of graveyard dirt, the bleached leg bone of a (supposedly) black cat, and one of his very oldest fake IDs. He barely recognized the face on the card--he had been a teenager then, and had insisted on wearing a fake beard for the photograph. His dad had humored him, even letting Sokka carry around a little bottle of Spirit gum and ratty patches of false facial hair to complete the “Wang Fire” persona whenever the ID was used. Sokka allowed a small smile to creep its way onto his face as he lifted his shovel and began to fill in the hole. It hadn’t felt like it at the time, but between all the combat training and monster slaying, Dad had actually been pretty receptive to Sokka’s penchant for over-complicated schemes. 

The crinkling sound of the box collapsing under the weight of the dirt brought Sokka’s mind back to the present. The used pastry box wasn’t ideal, but it was the only thing he had on hand and they were short on time. He had all the necessary summoning components and he was at the right crossroads--if the box was a bit flattened and there was some leftover powdered sugar mixed in, so what? It should still work. It had to. 

He finished filling the hole, shoved the shovel into the ground next to him, and looked around. The air remained still, the crossroads empty. 

Sokka walked to the center axis of the two dirt roads, turning in a slow circle to look down the length of each empty stretch in turn. The fields were quiet save the ambient buzz of insects and the occasional rustle of a distant breeze passing through the drying remnants of some long-abandoned crop. 

He was about to reach for his phone and check in on Katara when suddenly a voice spoke from behind him. 

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Hadoka’s infamous wayward son,” it called in smooth, masculine tones. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Sokka?” 

Sokka turned to see a slim man in a dark, well-tailored suit standing behind him in what had, mere seconds ago, been empty space. Unnaturally golden eyes gazed out from above angular cheekbones, the demon’s pale face framed by straight black hair that hung down past his shoulders. He looked distinctly out of place against the dust and decay of the empty fields, his silhouette all polished lines and casual, professional luxury. 

“Didn’t realize I was famous,” Sokka replied, crossing his arms loosely in an attempt to project nonchalance. He suddenly felt under dressed in his dirty jeans and worn khaki jacket. 

“It’s not every day a hunter like Hadoka sells his soul,” the demon replied. “I may do my business topside, but the screams from Hell can echo pretty far.” 

Sokka broke eye contact, doing his best to suppress the emotions that began to boil within him at the mention of his father. 

“I’m not here about my dad,” he said, changing the subject. “You made a deal here ten years ago with a man named Than, to cure his wife Ying’s cancer.” 

“Yes, I remember,” replied the demon as he began to walk in a slow circle around Sokka.

“I want you to let him out of his contract.”

The demon let out an incredulous huff of laughter. “And why would I do that?”

“I’d make it worth your while,” Sokka answered, looking back up at the demon with what he hoped was an enticing smile. “Though maybe we should continue this conversation in my car. No offense, but this whole abandoned country road aesthetic just isn’t doing it for me.” 

The demon narrowed his eyes slightly, a mix of suspicion and curiosity on his face. Sokka jerked his head back toward where his car was parked in a gesture of invitation, turning to walk in that direction without waiting to see if the demon would follow. 

“I can’t imagine you have anything in your car that would be worth the price of a soul,” the demon countered, but Sokka heard him following close behind nonetheless. 

“It’s not about what’s in the car. It’s about who’s in the car. I’m famous, remember?” 

“I said infamous--not famous.”

Sokka shrugged as he reached the passenger side car door. “Same difference. Point is--I’ve got brand recognition. Sounds like my soul is more valuable than that of your average desperate nobody. I’m sure we can work something out.” 

Sokka held the car door open, sending the demon his most charming grin.

The demon smirked back. 

“What a gentleman,” he said, heading towards the open door. 

“I aim to please.”

Sokka did his best to keep calm. All this back and forth was taking longer than he thought it would. Even now, Katara was back at Than’s house doing her best to keep the hellhounds at bay. If he didn’t find a way to resolve this soon, both she and Than were in serious trouble. Once they had a scent, hellhounds never stopped hunting, and from what Sokka had heard, they were next to impossible to kill. Katara was a capable hunter, but she could only buy them time. It was up to him to get the demon to call off his dogs. 

Sokka’s plan better work. 

***

Zuko walked towards the open door of Sokka’s Impala, a slight smirk on his face. Whatever game the mortal thought he was playing, he clearly had no idea how far above his pay grade this whole situation was. Zuko had been making deals for well over a thousand years. Sure, Sokka and Katara were a slightly bigger deal than some of the other tiny fish darting around in the shallows, but what were any of them to a shark? 

Though, perhaps Sokka did have a sense of the danger he was in. As Zuko walked past where the hunter was standing next to the open car door, he sensed a hint of nervous energy beneath his veneer of calm. Despite his teasing tone and cocky smile, Sokka was clearly on edge.

Zuko was leaning down to duck into the car when he saw it: the edge of a white chalk line just barely visible beneath the car’s chassis. Of course the mortal would try and trick him—no wonder he was so nervous. 

“A devil’s trap?” Zuko exclaimed, grabbing the car door away from Sokka and slamming it shut. “Really, Sokka? Did you really think it would be that easy?”

Zuko’s rage, ancient and unrelenting, flared up immediately. Over the centuries, his hatred for mortals and his disdain for his position of exile among them had become indistinguishable. He was the Prince of Hell, and yet here he was—doomed to barter endlessly for the grimy souls of these pathetic, corrupt beings. They had no sense of honor, no true sense of dignity. Mortals were all the same: always believing they were special, that somehow they’d find a way to weasel out of their deal and become the exception to the rule. Each and every one of them signed a contract, happily enjoyed the spoils, and then played the victim when the payment came due. Even this supposed white knight, Sokka the beloved son, was relying on cheap trickery. Even the virtuous hero wasn’t willing to drop the act and speak plainly. 

Zuko crowded into Sokka’s space, enraged. “I should flay your skin from your bones for lying to me. I’ve been doing this for centuries. Did you really think you’re the first person to try and break a contract?”

Zuko enjoyed the flash of terror on the mortal’s face as Sokka lifted his hands in a gesture of placating surrender.

“Hey, hey, c’mon.” he said, backpedaling. “I had to at least try.” 

“Enough games,” Zuko snapped. “You’ve got a deathwish? Fine. That I understand. But let’s not pretend this is about Than. I’m not buying the whole selfless sacrifice act, so just drop it.” 

Zuko watched as the very last of Sokka’s tongue-in-cheek bravado melted away, the man’s mouth settling into a grim line. 

“The other deals you made ten years ago--the artist, the architect, that surgeon. They all wanted selfish things. They made their wishes for themselves.” Sokka’s voice grew increasingly small as he continued to back away from Zuko. “Than is different. He made his deal for his wife--he did it out of love.” 

“Bullshit.” Zuko countered, pressing his advantage. “Than’s deal was about fear, not love. He was terrified of a life without Ying. When she got sick, he rearranged his whole existence around his role as her caretaker. By the time I came along, it had long ago stopped being about loving Ying. He was so busy playing martyr he barely knew her anymore. He’d already sold his soul. I just made it official.” 

Sokka crossed his arms in front of him protectively, his eyes falling to the ground as he absorbed Zuko’s tirade. 

“Thought you said this wasn’t about Than.”

Zuko rolled his eyes. 

“Well it's not like Than’s the only one here with misplaced survivor’s guilt, low self-esteem, and a martyr complex masquerading as some sort of family-protector persona.” 

“Yeah, I guess it is kind of is a bit on the nose,” Sokka admitted with a bitter chuckle. 

There was a beat of silence as the two looked at one another. Sokka had backed the whole way across the dirt road during his retreat and was now standing beneath the remnants of an old farm structure. He leaned back against the beam behind him with a resigned sigh. 

“So. If this isn’t about Than or Ying, then what is it about?”

Zuko smoothed back his long black hair and began to straighten the sleeves of his suit as he regained his composure. 

“Well, you want to make a deal. Than was just an excuse to call me here--you’re not here for him, you’re here for you. You want your father back and you know I can help you.” 

Now that his rage was subsiding, Zuko felt much more at ease. He was in his element now, preying on the seemingly infinite capacity of short-sighted mortals to desire that which was beyond their reach. 

“Okay,” said Sokka, somewhat hesitantly. “So let’s say, for argument sake, that you’re right. I give you my soul, and, what? You break my dad out of Hell? Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Zuko brushed the last bit of dust off of his jacket before striding back in close to where Sokka was standing. “Hadoka lives a full, natural life, and you get to spend ten long years with your reunited family.”

Sokka cleared his throat nervously as Zuko invaded his space. 

“So again—hypothetically—say I take you up on this deal. Say I agree. From what I’ve heard, we would… uh… Do a bit more than shake on it.” 

Zuko smiled, enjoying the mortal’s discomfort as he took one final step closer. 

“Yes, crossroads deals are sealed with a kiss.”

“Okay, well--” Sokka pushed himself up off the beam he had been leaning on and walked past Zuko, the movement somewhat abrupt. “Counter offer: I give you my extra-juicy, super famous soul, and you let Than out of his deal on top of bringing my dad back. Oh! And how about you also throw in a set of steak knives for good measure? Maybe some tickets to Disneyland?”

Zuko blinked, confused. 

“You know,” he began, following after Sokka, “I thought we had moved past the whole sarcasm self-defense mechanism thing. You’re really not as funny as--”

Zuko’s voice cut off as his forward steps faltered. Sokka, who was still several steps ahead, turned to look back at him with a raised eyebrow. Again, Zuko tried to step forward and found that he couldn’t. With an infuriatingly satisfied smile, Sokka pointed at the roof above Zuko’s head. There, painted in bright white against the dark, rotting wood, was a second devil’s trap. 

“Okay, so let’s try this one more time,” said Sokka, his tone taking on an air of authority. “Call off your hounds, let Than out of his contract, and leave Than and Ying alone to live happily ever after. If you promise to do all that, I’ll set you free.” 

Zuko was beyond angry. How  _ dare  _ he. 

“You insignificant, sarcastic, pigheaded cockroach!” Zuko roared. “Do you even know who I am?!”

Sokka shrugged. “I know you hold Than’s contract. And I know you can’t escape that trap unless I release you.”

“That’s not how any of this works, you idiotic son of a bitch,” Zuko seethed. “Than’s contract is binding--I can’t just let him out of it.”

“Can’t or won’t?” From the large pockets of his worn, army-green jacket, Sokka withdrew a small Bible and a rosary. “Because if you’re really as powerful as you seem to think you are, I’m pretty sure you could find a way to make it happen.” 

Zuko eyed the rosary beads, a pang of fear breaking through his fury. If he was exorcised and sent back to hell now, before he had fulfilled his father’s instructions, it would be worse than a death sentence. Centuries of exile would be wasted, enemies and allies alike would be out for blood as he descended to the very bottom of Hell’s pecking order. He would lose everything--again. 

“Are you even listening to me? It’s not that simple! Healing Ying’s cancer was contingent on the power of the deal to--”

Sokka began to chant in Latin, cutting off Zuko’s attempts to explain. He could feel himself being torn at the edges, his essence slowly forced to flee at the sound of the sacred incantation. He couldn’t go back. Not like this. 

“Stop! Please!” Zuko yelled. “We can make a deal, just stop!” 

Sokka stopped chanting, but he kept the book open in one hand, rosary in the other. 

“Call off the hounds,” Sokka repeated. “That’s the deal. Call off the hounds, let Ying and Than live out the rest of their lives free from you and your influence, and I’ll let you go. It’s either that or I send you back to hell right here, right now.”

“Fine,” said Zuko through gritted teeth. “It’s a deal.” 

There was a beat of silence as once again the two stared at one another. 

“I said, it’s a deal,” Zuko repeated, frustrated. “And we don’t shake on it. I would come to you, but I’m in a bit of a compromised position here.” 

“Oh! Right.” Sokka shoved the Bible and rosary back into his jacket pocket. “My bad.”

It was honestly astounding how quickly the man went from “powerful hunter who had the Prince of Hell cornered” to “awkward idiot who’s apparently nervous to initiate a kiss.” If Zuko was capable of getting headaches, he was sure he’d have one by now if only from the whiplash of watching Sokka bounce back and forth between extremes. 

Whether by genius or dumb luck, the hunter had outwitted him—but Zuko wouldn’t let him get the last word. As soon as Sokka was within reach, the demon reached out and grabbed him, yanking him forward and forcibly clashing their mouths together. Zuko let his anger burn into the kiss, pressing himself as hard against his captor as the devil’s trap would allow. He pushed his powers into Sokka through the kiss, delving deep into the man’s mortal soul, searching for a crack to exploit. 

What he found surprised him. 

Sokka’s soul was full of cracks and broken pieces, but not the sort that Zuko could weaponize easily. Where he had expected to find self-righteousness and desperate pride, Zuko found only a genuine desire to help others. Sokka’s cocky persona had been a front, yes, but not to mask the projection of his own insecurities and failings onto Than—no, Sokka had simply been worried that the double-blind of the two devil’s traps wasn’t going to work. The deception really had all been in the service of an attempt to save the life of a stranger he met mere hours ago. It really was about helping Than. 

Sokka was surprisingly receptive to the searing demand of Zuko’s kiss--another surprise. Whether or not he fully understood what was happening, Sokka refused to fight against Zuko, opting instead to open himself and allow the demon a clear, unashamed glimpse of his soul. He accepted the heat, but diffused the anger, revealing his core motives plainly: specific, familial love for his sister and a more abstract, selfless love for humanity in general. Sure, he had his shortcomings (overconfidence to mask insecurity, a need for control to mask helplessness, occasional recklessness to mask a deathwish, to name a few) and he had experienced more than his fair share of trauma--but try as he might, Zuko couldn’t find anything sinister lurking beneath the bedrock of Sokka’s selflessness. Zuko was dumbfounded. In all of his years trading in mortal souls, never once had he seen one quite like this. 

Sokka’s soul was beautiful. 

Zuko was the first to pull away from the kiss. He was dazed, confused enough by what he had seen that for a moment he forgot why he had pressed so hard in the first place. Then it all came rushing back: Than and Ying, the hounds, the devil’s trap, the deal. 

Sokka, too, took a few moments to come back to himself. His face was flushed, his eyes still closed, when Zuko cleared his throat. 

Sokka jerked back, eyes flying open. 

“Right! Sorry! Just…” he pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number. “Not that I don’t trust you, but you’re a demon and I don’t actually trust you.” 

Zuko tapped his foot impatiently as Sokka’s sister picked up the phone on the other end to verify that, yes, the hellhounds had disappeared. 

“Happy?” Zuko asked, arms crossed.

Sokka shrugged. “Not unhappy.” 

Sokka used one of the support beams as leverage to jump up and knock down a piece of rotting wood from the ceiling above Zuko’s head, breaking the trap’s outer line. 

“Thank you,” Zuko said, doing his best to keep his voice casual as he stepped free of the trap. “If you do ever decide to bargain with that soul of yours, you know where to find me.” 

When Sokka opened his mouth to reply, Zuko had already disappeared. 

**Author's Note:**

> More scenes set throughout the first five seasons of Supernatural featuring this version of Sokka and Zuko are on the way. Drop a bookmark or a comment if you'd like to see more.


End file.
